Shatterglass
by Catsitta
Summary: Cloud is a champion chocobo racer. Sephiroth is his cut-throat rival and inspiration. But after an almost crippling accident during a race, Cloud loses faith in himself. Can the man that ignited his dream to become a jockey, repair the damage he had a hand in causing? Very AU. C/S.
1. The Accident

**A/N:** My life as of late is spent conquering fears. Or most specifically, triumphing over a paralyzing fear of driving after my accident two years ago. In the past couple months since graduating college, I've slowly gone from debilitating panic attacks just moving the car down the street and clutching the door while in the passenger seat, to getting my license and driving to a Starbucks by myself. At the end of those four miles, I was shaky but free. And so, I wanted to bring some of those thoughts and feelings into a story.

I've also recently taken up playing the game Champion Jockey: G1 Jockey & Gallop Racer, and became very inspired to write about racing after my horse suffered an injury after a series of impossible odds wins.

Enjoy my odd fusion of Final Fantasy VII and Gallop Racer storylines/mechanics in this, well, not quite crossover.

 **Shatterglass**

 **By Catsitta**

 **1\. THE ACCIDENT**

"Do you really think you can defeat _me_? On a yellow chocobo no less. This must be a joke, Strife."

Cloud clutched Fenris' reins in a white-knuckled grip. The worn gloves his mother gave him the day he became a jockey creaked in protest. Sephiroth was goading him. It was what the older man did whenever they raced against each other, be it during a maiden run or a ranked championship. Though normally the banter held little weight, as Cloud proved numerous times that he was not only a competent rider, but one of the best. In three short years, he went from a nobody begging his sponsor stable to let him ride their chocobos, to a household name that rivaled Sephiroth's own. But today, he was racing on one of the chocobo's he bred himself instead of one of his sponsor's mounts, and the bird's very coloration betrayed why the punters projected him coming in last.

It did not matter that he overcame odds like these before. On this very chocobo. What mattered was that Fenris' biological ability hindered them, and even flawless racing did not guarantee a placement above the bottom.

Sephiroth lifted his chin, green eyes glinting aqua in the dimmed lighting of the indoor facility. At his side was an impressive black chocobo that dwarfed Cloud's Fenris. The gelding clacked his beak, looking as superior as his rider.

"I've won against you plenty, Crescent. Today won't be any different!" Blue eyes blazed as the blond took a defensive step forward. Given the dramatic height difference between the two, Cloud needed to look up to continue glaring at his rival. Sephiroth arched an elegant silver brow. It was the closest the man ever got to showing emotions outside of antagonizing word play.

"We will see," he drawled, tugging at the reins to his chocobo as he walked past Cloud. "Do not forget our wager. I do so look forward to reaping the spoils of my victory."

Cloud blew a tuft of his rebellious hair from his face and crossed his arms. Sephiroth and his stupid bets and challenges. Ever since Cloud had the audacity to beat him in a race during his rookie year, the man constantly proposed ridiculous contests to test their skills. Each one was grander and more convoluted than the last. To think, Sephiroth was who Cloud aspired to become as a kid. He grew up watching the young prodigy taking on championship races at the age of eight. Eight!

He now understood that Sephiroth was the youngest person to ever receive and survive a mako infusion, which enhanced his senses and qualified him to be a jockey. Cloud himself almost did not pass the mako test, after a poor initial reaction to the injection, but he endured and started a career as a professional racer at the tender age of fifteen. A standard beginning point in the dangerous industry.

After his time spent climbing the ranks, the shine from his idol faded, and now he stood on almost equal ground, constantly striving to rub Sephiroth's stuck up nose in the dirt. The first thing the man did after losing to Cloud, was declare a challenge and call him a worthless upstart that would burn out after a season. Who wouldn't want to smear mud all over Mister Perfect's spotless self?

The blond yanked on Fenris' reins, eliciting an angry squawk.

"Oh! Sorry there, buddy." The tension in his body faded as he rubbed the chocobo's beak apologetically. "I shouldn't be so rough. Forget my strength sometimes. Mako's a crazy thing, yeah?"

Fenris trilled.

Cloud sighed.

It was time to get ready for the race.

.x.

The Gold Saucer was conveniently located in the middle of the desert. Not only that, but it was a desert notorious for its quick sand 'lakes'. Which meant that the surrounding area was so inhospitable, that the only way to reach the famous entertainment mecca, was by special transit. The tourists usually took the trolley system, which transported customers in a cart along cables. But others, such as the racers, had to navigate through the sands on a pathetic excuse for a road, and hope their vehicles and trailers weren't tipped by the frequent high winds.

Cloud hated traveling here because of that.

Once inside the building, he had to admit, it was awe inspiring.

There were hotels, restaurants, a casino, a theatre, an arena, and of course, a full chocobo race track. It was no less impressive to witness the twentieth time than it was the first. The neon lights. The constant pulse of music and activity. It was vibrant and alive!

As a small town boy from a village in the mountains, a place like the Gold Saucer was like an alien planet.

But he wasn't here to enjoy the sights. He was here to win what was perhaps the most difficult race of his life. It was a ranked championship ride. All participants navigated through the lower ranks to qualify for a chance at the title race. And his mount was a glaring anomaly amongst a sea of black feathers. Yellow chocobos like Fenris weren't destined to become champions, but Cloud had to rise above the odds. He had to win.

His career was at stake!

 _"All riders to their gates!"_

Guiding Fenris to his designated gate at the start of the track, Cloud fought against the panic rising in his chest. Normally, the realization that he could lose a race, no matter how abysmally, was a mere disappointment. He hated letting his sponsors down when they allowed him to a ride one of their mounts at a race. Especially a prize black or, on rare occasions, a gold. This time, the feeling threatened to crawl through his blood and eat him alive like acid.

Stupid Sephiroth and his stupid wagers.

Shaking hands lifted to pull tinted goggles over his eyes. Indoor courses like these were filled with strobe lights and dizzying special effects—part of the many obstacles both jockey and chocobo had to overcome.

Cloud dared a glance to either side.

On his right was a friendly jockey a couple years Cloud's senior named Zack Fair. He was a light-hearted and goofy man with a head full of gelled up raven spikes. He looked and acted like your typical class clown. But appearances weren't everything. Otherwise he wouldn't be sponsored by the Shin-Ra stables, same as Sephiroth.

On his left was a sixteen year old girl named Yuffie Kisaragi. She transferred from the Wutai circuit to compete in the Continental races after winning the championship in her home country. Tiny but fierce, Yuffie was the only person in the race without Mako enhancements. Wutai did not require it of their racers, and the Continental League gave allowances for her due to her impressive record free of any accident or injury.

The blond wondered how she competed in such a dangerous sport so confidently when she knew that one wrong move could kill her. She had no defenses against injury, nor an enhanced healing factor. Her senses were also her own—no sensitive hearing or to make her aware of changes in her mount or in the environment. But here she was, perched on a chocobo in the gate beside his, fragile but fearless.

He pulled his gaze to the front, legs tightening marginally around Fenris' body. Cloud felt the chocobo's vestigial wings shift against his calves. The lights outside the track dimmed further than before, drowning the observers in hazy darkness. Their chatter fell into an anticipatory hush. This was it. He tensed—ready for the cue.

Suddenly, the low-lit track came alive with a flash.

It was coupled with the bang of gates slamming open.

 _"And they're off!"_

In the second that these things occurred, Cloud spurred his mount into action.

Fenris leapt from the gate in an impressive burst of speed, taking the lead and placing a sizable distance between him and the rest of the pack. Cloud spared a glanced over his shoulder. None of the others were attempting to spur their mounts to catch up with his, fully aware that the yellow could not sustain his speed for long and his stamina pool was shallow compared to theirs. When they were ready to burst into action or gain advantage, they would. It was a matter of knowing how their mounts best ran in races, whether they relied on a steady lead (like Fenris) or preferred to remain at the back of the pack, closing rank in the final stretch as they employed their conserved energy to overcome opponents.

Cloud swallowed and laid flush against Fenris' neck and back.

The track glittered around them, a dream-like blur of neon and projections. The track sloped up, green light pooling beneath them to emulate grassy knolls. Fenris huffed, tiring but clinging to his arduous pace. Cloud could heard the others slowly closing the distance, unhurried in their pursuit. He gave the reins a slight jerk, urging the chocobo toward the inside curve of the track as they descended the slope.

The lights shifted blue.

He smelled the water before Fenris' clawed foot splashed ankle deep into the next obstacle.

A blur of purple-and-red neon formed a blinking arrow, warning of a sudden change in the direction of the curve. Cloud bumped his heels against Fenris' sides, wanting to recover some of the acceleration lost in the water trap.

The blond glanced back again.

His heart pounded.

Leading the pack was Sephiroth, his impressive mane of platinum hair tied up in a tail, unfettered by a helmet. Unlike most racers, he did not wear any protective headgear, including the usual tinted goggles. That aristocratic face was hard to see from his distance, but Cloud could imagine the serious expression he likely wore. Or maybe it was mocking as he reveled in the prospect of Cloud losing.

Smug bastard.

Cloud focused again on the track, but his thoughts strayed. It was hard to keep them pinned on the situation when he could heard Sephiroth's voice in his head, his wager a poisonous promise.

 _"If I win the final race at the Gold Saucer, you will quit being a jockey forever."_

He struggled to swallow in a breath.

 _"That's ridiculous. Why would I agree to such a thing? Chocobo racing is my life!"_

The image of Sephiroth looming over him, an almost manic gleam in his glowing eyes, filled the forefront of Cloud's mind. He never threatened his rival's career in the past.

 _"Because, Strife, if you somehow win on that pathetic excuse for a chocobo...I will forfeit my sponsorship with ShinRa...to you. You will want for nothing. The best the stables have to offer will be yours to race."_

 _"What makes you think you can even do that?"_

 _"I know ShinRa. They will ask to become your primary sponsor should I step aside. You are the industry's newest little pet prodigy. Even if you do have to take a month leave every year due to that pesky mako intolerance of yours."_

Cloud let out a ragged breath, blinking through the sweat streaking down his face. Sephiroth would not let him refuse the wager. The man essentially blackmailed him into agreeing, threatening to ruin his reputation and record should he say no. The only way to keep racing was to win here in the Gold Saucer—even if he did not care about gaining more notable sponsorship. He may have dreamed of working for ShinRa as a kid, but he was fond of the little stable who gave him a chance. His friends were like family. Win or lose they supported him.

So he was not going to let them down by losing here!

Gritting his teeth, he urged Fenris to pick up his pace. They were closing in on the last obstacle. The space bridge. It was a slippery glass straightway plunged in darkness. Save for the tiny array of shifting constellations, there was no light. It was here that many jockeys over the years experienced their downfall. Their mounts lost their footing and went crashing down, throwing the rider or worse, crushing them beneath their bulk. On rare occasions the impact even breaks the glass and causes a horrific chain reaction amongst the riders that came in behind them.

It could be a bloody affair that crippled chocobos and on a handful of occasions, killed the rider.

"Steady, Fenris," Cloud murmured as they reached the space bridge. He could feel the chocobo slowing, unable to gain proper traction. Sharp claws skid fruitlessly against the slick track. But they continued onward. Further. Further. Further. The blond reached for the whip strapped to his thigh. Many riders carried theirs in hand as they raced, but he preferred a securer hold on the reins.

The thunder of footsteps alerted Cloud of the pack closing in.

They were easily crossing the distance.

Should he fall behind an inch, he would lose this whole race.

He stretched his arm out, whip at ready. He had to wait for the right moment. That glorious sweet moment when the space bridge ended and the final turn opened up to the home stretch. He waited. One second. Two. His heartbeat drummed above the other racers as they gobbled up those last, precious feet between them.

Then the world went bright and Cloud brought his whip down.

His exhausted mount let out a squawk as he surged forward with newfound resolve, practically humming with adrenaline as he ran faster than before, as if temporarily ignorant of his own dragging fatigue. Cloud clutched Fenris' neck feathers, cheek pressed to his neck as he urged him to keep going. But even that burst of energy could not last forever. Fenris kept moving, but there was an odd stagger to his gait, almost as if he were lurching toward the finish line.

The pack they left behind seemed to pounce.

Through bleary, half-lidded eyes, Cloud could see Sephiroth pull up beside him, his mount at full pelt, slowly inching to take the lead.

He shook at Fenris' shoulder desperately.

It all happened to quick for even his mako enhanced reflexes to overcome.

The finish line was within arm's reach-

 _"FINISHED!" A horn blazed, announcing the end of the race._

-Cloud's world took a dangerous tilt. He could feel Fenris straining to keep upright, but his legs buckled, his weight crumpling. The blond yanked on the reins, desperate to correct the fall.

Fenris twisted.

Cloud slipped from his mount.

And the world went black in an explosion of pain.

.x.

 _"...loud...Clo...Cloud!"_

Pain. He was in so much pain.

 _"Wake up! You gotta...up...Cloud."_

Creeping. Popping. Twisting. He could feel the mako in his blood heating, burning away as it spurred his cells into action. His heart beat out a rapid tattoo. Muscles protested every shuddering inhalation of breath. Bones snapped audibly as sizable fragments were pulled into place, leaving the smallest particles to be dissolved into the bloodstream. He was hot. Boiling. Burning!

 _"Out of...way miss, we need...to the hospital."_

 _"CLOUD!"_

.x.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

White walls and the scent of lysol greeted him as he stirred awake. Blue eyes peeled open, sticky from sweat and tears. Cloud blinked. Sunlight trickled through a curtained window. He groaned, clamping heated lids shut to block out the stabbing rays.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He lifted a heavy hand and draped a leaden arm over his face. Cloud did not want to be here. He hated hospitals. Ever since breaking his arm as a little kid, he avoided the places as much as possible. Only time he ever voluntarily went in them were for his yearly mako boosters, and the following days were spent bent over a toilet, trying to keep enough food down to sustain him between feverish naps.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Why was he in a hospital now? He had his shot seven months ago. Cloud pulled his arm away from his face and struggled into a sitting position. He trembled. Everything hurt. From his toes to his head, it was as if someone rolled him through a human-sized drying press. Secured to his right arm were a number of wires and an IV tube. A solution that appeared to be saline mixed with mako dripped down from the fluid bag. No wonder his gut kept trying to roll into his mouth.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cloud picked at the bandages securing the tubes and wires to skin. His head was a fuzzy muddle. Why was he here? What happened? He stilled as he heard the echo of approaching footsteps and the faint murmur of voices. A mundane would not be able to hear their words, but he could make out what was being said if he focused.

"Are you sure he's okay?" That voice was familiar. It...it belonged to his childhood friend, Tifa, a chocobo rancher who worked at the farm where his stable obtained its mounts.

"He's fine, Miss Lockheart." A doctor or nurse? She had a pleasant voice. Soothing.

"But he hasn't woken up."

"There is nothing wrong with Mr. Strife. The injuries he sustained are fully healed. His system is likely recovering from the shock of burning so much mako, and required rest. Once he is discharged, he will need some recovery time for the pain to subside, but within the month, he should be able to return to racing without a problem."

"Pain!"

"Think of it like an athlete working out too hard and becoming sore for a day or two. Mako can do miraculous things, but it does have its limits. will be sore, possibly even feeling flu-like as his body finishes its repairs naturally."

"Nothing permanent?"

"Not at all! He was really quite lucky. Had he fallen just a fraction of a degree differently, he would have broken his spine instead of just his collarbone, arm and ribs. If it weren't for the mako, had he survived the fall, he would be in a full body cast. As it is, there is no lasting damage."

Beeeeeep. Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeep.

Cloud felt his breath hitch and he clutched the cotton sheet over his legs. It all came back to him. The race. The final dash. The fall. It all played out in agonizing detail. The feeling of bones bending, bending, bending, then snapping at they gave way to pressure. His head slamming into the hard rubber flooring. Lights flashing and the crowd screaming. The weight of Fenris crushing down on his chest. All the air forced from his lungs like a punch to the solar plexus. His vision blurring out before snapping into darkness like an old camera shutter.

"Cloud?"

He returned to reality in a cold sweat.

Standing at the edge of the bed was Tifa, her garnet eyes wide as a smile stretched on her face. Her normally sleek black hair was in disarray, as if she'd slept and not brushed it out. Her skin was pallid with heavy circles beneath the eyes. And she was wearing the same clothes from race day—a pair of leather shorts, fingerless gloves, a white half-top and a zip-up, sleeveless black jacket.

"Hey Teef," Cloud murmured, surprised at how scratchy his voice sounded.

He braced himself for a leaping hug, but received a punch to the shoulder instead. Cloud gripped the spot and scowled.

"What was that for?"

Tifa sniffed and crossed her arms, "For scaring me. For scaring all of us! What gave you the insane idea to push poor Fenris so hard? No one expected him to win. Not even that cranky sponsor of yours, Barret."

"I...uh..."

"Ahem. Miss Lockheart, I'll have to ask that you try to avoid stressing Mr. Strife too much. He is recovering, after all."

Both Cloud and Tifa turned wide-eyes to the doorway. There stood the soft-spoken doctor Tifa conversed with before entering the room. Her long white coat hung over surprisingly pink scrubs, and her eyes were a shade of emerald rare to see outside of the mako enhanced.

"Hello, Mr. Strife. My name is Dr. Aerith Gainsborough. Might you be willing to answer a few questions for me while you're awake? Your fiancee can stay if you wish."

Cloud shot a questioning look at Tifa, who sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. So that was why the doctor was talking to her about what should have been confidential client information. This wasn't the first time his childhood friend posed as his significant other in some form or fashion. Though normally it was to appease his grandchild hinting mother who Cloud couldn't quite find the heart to tell that he just wasn't into girls that much. Or even guys for that matter. He figured one day he'd get married or something, have some kids, but right now...it just wasn't important. He was only eighteen! He'd figure out the specifics later.

"Sure, Dr. Gainsborough," he said, sliding his gaze back to the smiling young woman. She only looked a couple years his senior. Maybe she was one of those people who would look younger than their real age for their whole life.

As the doctor picked up a clipboard from a plastic bin on the wall, Cloud readied himself for what was hopefully a brief hospital stay.

.x.

"Looking forward to going home?"

Cloud flexed his hand, free at last from the machinery. He was stuck in this room for four days too long and was ready to get out of the Gold Saucer's emergency hospital and back to the stables outside of Costa Del Sol. Giving Dr. Gainsborough a nod, he tried to cover his lingering pain behind a weak smile. She probably didn't fall for it, but she grinned either way, patting his arm in a motherly fashion before offering him a hand to stand up.

"Your fiancee brought you clothes," she said as Cloud hoisted himself up onto his feet. He wavered but remained upright. "They're in the bathroom. Feel free to check out once you're dressed."

"Thanks."

As she turned to exit, and Cloud regained his center of balance, he heard her footsteps stutter to a stop, "Oh! Hello. I didn't expect to see you around. Are you here to take Mr. Strife home? He's ready to discharge."

Expecting Tifa, he looked to the doorway...and froze.

Skulking about was the last person he ever expected to darken his hospital room's doorstep. Sephiroth. His rival looked strange outside of his uniform, the pair of wire frame glasses on his nose an unexpected accessory given his dislike of wearing goggles. He stood with his hands crossed behind his back, looking oddly approachable in a loose black tee and faded grey jeans.

"...hn. I am simply here to discuss something with Strife before he returns home."

"You know the rules..."

"I do not require much time, Aerith. He is...a friend of mine. Just this once?"

Dr. Gainsborough huffed and used her clipboard to tap him on the nose, "Fine. But only because he's ready to discharge." Cloud ogled her in confounded awe as she strode out of the room as if she hadn't just 'booped' one of the most intimidating men on the planet. What was even more confusing was how unfazed Sephiroth acted as she departed, not even a brow lifted in arrogant questioning.

"Strife." That commanding voice cut through the little white room like a heated knife.

"What do you want?"

"I wish to discuss our wager."

"Oh," Cloud curled his hand, suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing around in a paper robe.

Sephiroth moved to stand near the little window, its diaphanous curtains allowing light to filter through in a gauzy glow. The shadow of some kind of potted plant could be seen through the white material, set on the sill as an adornment.

"Are you aware of the results?"

"I...no. No one's told me anything," Cloud confessed. He vaguely recalled Tifa's scolding earlier in the week. He wasn't sure if her words implied a win or not. When Barret dropped by over the past couple days, it was to tell him off for being a risk taking punk. Not in an unkind way, the cursing was just how the gruff man showed he cared. "Not even my sponsor."

His rival jockey turned so that his back was to Cloud, his lean frame silhouetted by the morning glow, "Then allow myself to be the first to congratulate you on your win."

"I won?"

"Indeed. You took the title on the back of that yellow runt."

"I see..." Cloud looked away and reached out to brace his weight against the wall. The bathroom door was just a couple inches from his palm. "Y'know, I won't hold you to that ridiculous wager you made me agree to, Crescent."

A pause.

He only heard his heartbeat.

"Don't be foolish. I proposed the wager in earnest, do not make a liar of me."

Cloud let out an exasperated snort, "I don't want your sponsor. If ShinRa wants me as their jockey, I'll let them come to me on their own. Not because their golden boy made a stupid bet. That...and if I'm to properly beat you to become the jockey of the year, then I need to do so with you at your best. ShinRa chocobos and all."

Sephiroth shifted, tilting his head toward Cloud, "You are a fool."

The blond smirked, "Says the man that tried to wager his lifelong career on a race. At least I have other options if I have to retire. Do you even know how to do anything else?"

His rival bristled, green eyes narrowed.

"Thought so," Cloud said. A small frown furrowed between his brows. "Hey Crescent, do you know the doctor? You're not exactly the first name basis sort."

"Hm? It is generally considered polite to refer to one's family members as they request."

"Family?" Come to think of it, Aerith's eye shape and arched bangs resembled Sephiroth's.

He rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, "We are cousins."

Suddenly, the temperature in the room cooled as the older man turned fully around and regarded Cloud with a look far more serious than before. It was the kind of expression your parents wore when trying to explain that your grandfather was sick and probably wouldn't live to see the new year.

"Strife, if no one informed you about the race, then you are not aware of Fenris' condition either, are you?"

"Fenris? What's wrong with my Fenris?" Cloud took a step toward Sephiroth, but the strain and the surprise took the strength from his legs and his knees buckled. He threw his arms up to stop his fall, but two strong arms wrapped around him, stopping his descent. The blond stared up at his rival, who adverted his gaze.

"I am not fully aware of the situation. I am not affiliated with any of your stables, but I was there when your accident occurred. From my observations, it appeared the chocobo suffered some kind of injury, similar to a torn achilles tendon in humans. His legs quite literally collapsed beneath his weight and he fell in a peculiar fashion...It is entirely possible I am incorrect, that it was simply exhaustion that caused the fall. But if he did sustain such an injury..."

"He would never race again."

"That is an optimistic outlook."

Cloud clamped his eyes shut. Racing chocobos that suffered crippling injuries from accidents were often euthanized for humane reasons. It was a kinder fate than to allow the animal to suffer through pain for the rest of their life or without their ability to perform basic functions.

"Strife?"

"Thanks for telling me...I...I think I know why no one talked about the race much. I raised Fenris since he hatched from an egg. I trained him. I was the only one who raced him. And...and I..."

' _I broke him. I may have even killed him. Just because I wanted to win a stupid bet. What's my career over another's life? Sure, I would have had to quit racing, but I know how to fix stuff. I'm a certified mechanic for Gaia's sake!'_

He felt a hand lay against his shoulder. Lightly. Hesitantly.

"Your friend must be wondering where you are," Sephiroth said. "I should leave you to get dressed and discharged from the facilities." He paused. "I am late in my return to Midgar. It would be best if I made haste as well."

After righting the blond so that he could stand on his own, he strode past Cloud, booted feet silent against the tiles.

"Crescent—"

This time, his rival did not stop or turn. He kept walking, vanishing from sight. Cloud stared at the doorway for a long second before shuffling into the bathroom. He needed to change into real clothes. Reality and its consequences could be figured out later.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading! Please comment and review~ Updates will occur weekly since this story is nearly complete. It will have three main parts and an epilogue. See y'all next week.)**


	2. The Damage

**A/N: Installment two!**

A little early because I'll be out of town tomorrow. Thank you to those who reviewed the story this far. Feedback is important and helps writers grow...and smile.

 **Shatterglass**

 **By Catsitta**

 **2\. THE DAMAGE**

Cloud's first day back home was met with a queer mix of celebration and quiet tension. Friends and co-workers cheered him for his win, while remaining avoidant at the mention of Fenris. It appeared Sephiroth was the only one willing to give him direct answers, and he was Cloud's fiercest rival. One might say his friends were trying to be tactful and not upset him while he rested, but it was more distressing than helpful. He made it through until evening until he lost his patience and cornered a hovering Tifa, who kept insisting on taking care of him until she was sure he was okay.

They were in Cloud's room inside Barret's house. When he moved to Costa Del Sol, he had no money and no connections, so after gaining employment with the man, he managed to beg a place to stay. After much swearing and some rather creative threats about what he'd do if Cloud didn't hold his weight around the stables, he agreed to let the blond stay in his guest room. Three years and another couple strays later, it was home. The man grumbled about his space being invaded, but never made any gesture to get his rent paying guests to leave.

"Tifa, look, I need a straight answer. Where is Fenris?"

The brunette looked down, hands clenching the quilt covering the twin-sized bed she sat on. Her bent shoulders and unreadable expression made the normally tough-looking girl seem fragile. When she wasn't standing tall, her muscular form moving with the practiced grace of a trained martial artist, but half-curled into herself like a naughty child...she reminded him of that spoiled rich girl she used to be, all skirts and mocking little Cloud for being small and fatherless, yet afraid of any kind of scolding for her actions.

"Teef..."

"He's not here," she mumbled.

"I know that," Cloud retorted, swiping a hand through his spiky locks. "So where is he?"

Tifa brought a hand to her lap and drummed her fingers against her thigh, "...Midgar."

"What?"

"MIDGAR!" she shouted, standing and putting herself nearly nose-to-nose with him. Tears glimmered in wine-colored eyes. "He's in Midgar."

Cloud frowned, "Why would be there? If he's injured, shouldn't he be here...or at a local rehabilitation center?"

"ShinRa"

"Shin...Ra?"

Tifa tucked back a lock of hair behind her ear, "It was kinda sudden. Shortly after you were discharged from the hospital, Barret received a call from someone at ShinRa, requesting that Fenris be brought from the Gold Saucer's care unit, to theirs, for his follow up surgeries and rehabilitation. Midgar has the best medical and veterinary hospitals in the world, so when he heard that your chocobo could be treated there, all costs covered...he said yes."

"Surgery? All costs covered...Tifa, why did no one tell me any of this? He's my chocobo!"

"We didn't want you to worry," she replied. "We know how you get when something goes wrong."

"So I'm not allowed to get angry?"

"It's not your fault..."

"Fenris might have to be euthanized because of me! How am I not to blame?"

"Cloud," Tifa stood and reached out for the blond, who was breathing heavily, hands clenched. "Cloud please. Calm down and rest."

"Don't touch me." She retracted her hands, clutching them to her chest. "Just...get out. Tell Barret I'll be a good boy and rest." His tone was acerbic, words dripping with venomous sarcasm.

Tifa sighed and walked to the door, pushing it open, "Don't hole yourself in here for too long, okay?" When Cloud put his back to her, she sighed and left. Leaving the blond alone in the little bedroom by himself.

Normally, this place felt comfortable and cozy. Its walls crammed with racing posters, bookshelves and motorcycle schematics offered a snug reminder of his childhood home. But it felt suffocating instead. Cloud clenched his hands, tighter than before, blunt fingernails bitting into calloused palms. He sucked in a shuddering breath, ignoring the persistent ache that throbbed through every muscle in his body. Fatigue made his heady fuzzy and his body quiver. But he remained standing. Overheated and battling a swelling ache in belly.

As the sting of tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, Cloud turned sharply around and slammed his fist into the wall. Had he been at full strength, he would have left a hole in the plaster, but instead he created a sizable dent and made his whole arm scream in pain. Ever since Sephiroth told him about Fenris, guilt and worry ate at his nerves, thinly veiled behind a wall of denial. It had been like perceiving the world through a glass wall or while wearing a rubber skin. But now that the glass was shattered, he felt raw. Exposed. Unable to keep himself pieced together with desperate hope that Sephiroth was wrong, and that Fenris was just overexerted and needed rest.

He jerked away from the wall and rubbed his face with both hands, scrubbing his cheeks and brows in a fruitless attempt at soothing his throbbing head.

A low whine built in his throat, but he swallowed it and moved forcefully toward the window. It required him to climb over his desk and fumble with blinds that never quite worked right, but he eventually bathed in the last glow of sunset. Night would swallow up the city of sunshine soon. Cloud clawed at the latches until the window came unlocked and pulled it up. Late summer air greeted him as he drew in a steadying breath.

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled as he ducked through the open frame and dropped into flower bed below. Cloud lifted a boot to make sure he didn't trample any of the blossoms. Barret's adopted daughter Marlene was very fond of her garden. A fussy four year old was sometimes scarier than the hulking wall of a man she called daddy. Once assured that the flowers were safe, he skittered away from the window toward the stables. A grassy hill separated him from where the chocobos were kept and trained.

Exhausted limbs protested every movement. The uphill trek a strain on his still-mending muscles. But he kept going. Moving. Moving. Moving. When he arrived at the top, he stared down at the gated area. It was a small but practical set up, perfect for the small stable to use for its mounts. With built hills and dug out trenches and water traps made to help prepare for the races. Cloud sank to the ground and sat in the grass.

The anger and frustration sank back behind that glass wall.

He felt numb.

Not even the kiss of winter's distant promise upon the evening wind brought about a shiver.

Dawn was chasing away the moon and stars by the time Cloud rose from his spot on the hill and trudged back to the house. He briefly wondered, as he crept through the window, if anyone even noticed he was gone.

.x.

"Oi, where's Spike? He's 'sposed to help me prep Tiny Bronco for his maiden race."

Cid Highwind, often called Captain, was the trainer at the stables he and Cloud worked. The former aerospace engineer did not like talking about why he abandoned a lucrative career in Rocket Town and started working with racing chocobos. Whenever pressed, the shaggy blond would mutter something about 'space', 'Shera' and 'ShinRa', before lighting up a cigarette. Regardless of his past, he was a good trainer and was right in place with Barret's team of misfits.

The big boss man himself gave Cid a puzzled look, "What'cha mean? I told broody-boy to find you half an hour ago. He shouldn't race real hard right now, but nothin' fuckin' stopping him sitting on a chocobo's back as he runs 'round in a circle."

Neither Barret or Cid noticed the subject of their conversation peeking around the edge of the little brick house. Cloud watched with a strange heaviness in his gut as the two men talked on the front porch.

"Little shit musta gone off to sulk some more 'bout Fenris," Barret eventually surmised. There was a hint of worry in his tone as he crossed meaty arms over his barrel chest. His prosthetic gleamed from his right elbow down, the metallic material a sharp contrast to his dark skin. "I'll find 'im. Give the boy a good shake and send him your way."

Cid rubbed the back of his head and grimaced, free hand twitching toward the box of smokes tucked in his pants pocket. Barret forbade smoking within a certain distance of the house, not wanting to aggravate little Marlene's asthma. Funny how much fatherhood could change a man. He even tried to quell his swearing when she was in earshot—though he failed more often than he succeeded.

"Thanks, boss," the trainer said, turning and strolling down the front steps. As he followed the path around the edge of the house, he dug out his cigarettes, careful not to light them while still in sight of the porch.

Luckily for Cloud, he went around the opposite side from where he stood. Not hiding, per se. But standing out of sight.

It had been a week since he returned home, and while he was still weak and queasy, most of his former energy and durability had returned. It was like coming down from a cold. If he pushed too hard, he hurt and slept deeply, and he needed to avoid certain foods as well as riding in the backseat of cars (because motion sickness was an utter delight when your stomach started off uneasy). But he was quite capable of returning to most of his usual day-to-day tasks, as long as he was careful.

The strange thing was, the idea of helping Cid with Tiny Bronco made his gut roil. Normally, prepping for the races was a tedious but exhilarating process, as they tried to boost form and temper any bad habits the chocobo may have. He lost track of the number of birds he worked out or assisted in rearing.

Cloud bit his lip and drew in a steady breath.

There was no reason to avoid helping Cid like he promised. He just...didn't want to help. Honestly, he did not have to do so. It wasn't part of his job. He just did it because he liked working with chocobos and prepping them for races helped build their bond and made it easier to know their quirks. He ran his thumb across his brow, ignoring the tremor that rattled through his nervous system and the dampness creeping beneath his shirt collar.

Turning, he made for the back of the house, but a heavy weight on his should stopped him.

He peeked up.

Barret apparently made good on his promise to find Cloud and luck took him in the right direction. The older man glared down at the far smaller jockey with disapproval.

"Why aint you at the stables helping Highwind?"

"Er, hello. I was just heading there now." Cloud smiled sheepishly.

"Really? Then I'll join you," Barret said, giving the blond a nudge and walking him toward the stables. A feeling that could only be named dread mauled his insides. It plucked at his stomach and squeezed his lungs. It stirred his heart into a frenzied fright, the organ wrenching and writhing as if to escape the cage of his ribs. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to dampen the cotton that seemingly took residence in his throat and mouth.

"O-oh okay," Cloud licked his lips. "Awesome."

The journey to the stables was sluggish, as if someone with a Time materia cast Slow. The world tasted monochrome across a sandpaper tongue. Upon arriving at their destination, the spell faded and the blond inhaled sharply, trying to soothe himself with the familiar smell of soil, grass and feathers. Cid stood in the training pen, stroking Tiny Bronco's beak. The blue chocobo nipped at his gloved fingers playfully, as if plying for treats.

"Knock it off, drumstick." The trainer gently tugged at the reins he held in his other hand, reminding the bird of the bit in his beak. Tiny Bronco bowed his head and nuzzled his shoulder. "Heh. Good boy."

"Highwind! I found Spike," Barret bellowed, drawing Cid's attention. He looked over, cigarette hanging from the corner of his smile. "Champ here was just bein' slow."

"Cloudy-boy, you're just in time. Tiny is going to leave all the others in the dust after we're done prepping him. Hey, you ready to ride this weekend? He's most used to you out of our jockeys...Spike, you okay? You're looking a little, uh, paler than usual."

Cloud blinked and took a step toward Cid.

"I don't think I'm recovered enough to race yet," he said, surprised by how steady he managed to keep his words. "But I'll help Tiny Bronco be the best he can be for whoever ends up as his racer."

"Knew I could count on you!" Cid slapped Cloud on the back and guided him toward the mock race track. Behind them, Barret stood, watching. He tapped his prosthetic with single finger, the motion jittery, contemplative. Then it stilled and he moved closer to the track, arms falling to either side as he followed his employees.

.x.

"I'm thinkin' a three furlong timed run and some dash training would really help with his spurt. Allow him to really gain momentum where it counts, like in the final dash after conserving his energy. He's a drop-in style runner, so he doesn't need to be at the very front..."

Cid's energized speech faded into incomprehensible garble to Cloud's ears. The blond scarcely heard a thing the closer they came to the track. What was going on? Why was he shaking so hard? Why did neither of them notice how badly his hands trembled? No. It was nothing. Just his body recovering from the accident. He was fine. Perfect even! Absolutely nothing in this world bothered him!

The pair stopped walking.

"Okay Spike, mount up and we'll get this practice going."

Cloud nodded and reached for Tiny Bronco, but he stilled, "Headwear."

"Huh?"

"I should wear some protective gear just in case."

Cid scratched his head, "Tiny Bronco aint gonna buck you. You've never fallen off a chocobo during practice, except that one time you worked with that ill tempered filly your first year."

Cloud tapped his temple, "I don't want to go rattling things up top just yet."

"Hmph. You aint a delicate little miss, Spike." He blew a ring of smoke. "But whatever. I'll go find you a practice cap."

"Thanks, Captain."

Leaving Tiny Bronco to Cloud's watch, Cid wandered into the stables. It was an old but sturdy structure, kept together with duct tape, sweat and Barret's voracious threats of demolition. It housed about eight chocobo at any given time—which made it the smallest competitive stable in the Continental League. There was talk of expansion since Cloud's impressive career brought in enough money to properly fix up the place and provide for another half-dozen chocobos. The blond wondered if those casual chats would become a reality after that championship win at the Gold Saucer. After all, that series of races brought in over almost a million gil. Not much compare to what ShinRa raked in each season, but certainly an impressive sum for a small stable looking to participate in more circuits.

"Here we are! Cap'n'goggles."

Cloud let out a surprised huff when a hard lump smacked into his chest. He wrapped his hands around the bundle, eyeing Cid through narrowed eyes. If there was one thing to be said about Cid Highwind, he wasn't a weak man. He packed a punch worthy of an enhanced.

Looking down at the leather cap and tinted goggles, Cloud felt his gut wrench again. That niggling nausea welling up until he tasted sour bitterness in his mouth. Shakily, he pulled the headgear on and once more reached for Tiny Bronco. The chocobo chirped and nibbled at the grass impatiently.

"What's the hold up?"

Cloud realized his hands were hovering inches above the blue feathers of the mount. All he had to do was get a proper grip and swing himself up onto his back. Something he did hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the past. He'd ridden chocobos since he was a little kid. Of course, they were old, docile birds used to transport goods between Nibelhiem to nearby towns. But to someone as little as he'd been, they were impressive beasts that made him feel as if he were on top of Mt. Nibel each time he scrambled on their backs.

"Spike...?"

The world started to blur out. He didn't realize it until then, but tears were collecting in his eyes and he was holding his breath. He sucked in a ragged gasp of air, but it didn't seem to soothe the dizziness suffocating him. Cloud staggered back. Tiny Bronco peered at him with wide, trusting eyes. He choked.

"I...I...I can't." His words were something caught between a gasp and a whine.

"What? It's just a chocobo. What's the hell is going on in that head of yours?"

He shook his head, unable to formulate the exact words. Memories of the accident, suppressed and hazy since he awoke, were flickering back in jagged clarity. He could hear the roar of the crowd, feel the shift in Fenris' weight. Screams. Neon. The smell of sweat, dirt and feathers. He recalled the way his bones strained and cracked, the heavy crush of his mouth collapsing on top of him. His head smashing against the track.

Tifa's cry of worry.

Dr. Gainsborough's diagnosis.

Sephiroth's words upon visiting the hospital.

 _'Fenris might be euthanized because of me.'_

He couldn't do it. He might hurt Tiny Bronco. Or another chocobo. Next time they may slip on the Space Bridge and slice up their legs. He could be the reason they died...he could die. He almost died. A slightly different fall. No amount of mako could cure a severed spinal chord. Could not cure paralysis from nerve damage.

Cloud took two more steps away from the chocobo.

A shadow fell over him.

It was Barret's hulking form.

"You look like shit," he muttered. "Go rest."

The blond nodded, yanking off the cap and goggles. Cid stared, gathering up Tiny Bronco's reigns as Cloud retreated. A few seconds later, Cloud was running. His legs felt like jelly in a blender, but he kept going. He needed to clear his head. Sleep. Yeah, sleep would be a good idea. He was just tired, his body stressed from burning and being re-dosed with mako. It was just a bad reaction to the chemical—it always made him sick and edgy.

As he reached the porch, he saw Marlene wandering toward the side of the house, lugging a giant watering can behind her, leaving the door wide open. Cloud would have scolded her for not shutting the door, but he didn't have a voice. All he could do was slink inside and seek refuge in his bedroom.

.x.

"So you're still alive, Strife."

Cloud jerked up, letting out a grunt of pain when he smashed his head against the bottom of the motorcycle he was repairing. Blue eyes went wide and he shuffled into a crouch, startled to see Sephiroth of all people. He never came to Barret's stable. Ever! Much less waltzed up into main house's garage.

"People are starting to think that accident actually killed you," he drawled, striding lazily toward Cloud. "It has been three months and the golden boy that won the biggest race of his life...has yet to be seen again."

"Why are you here?" That mako-colored gaze seemed to bore holes right through the blond's skull. As if he was trying to pin him with laser vision. "Look, I'm not up to any stupid wagers right now. I'm busy."

He sprawled onto his back and busied his hands with a random tool laying on the cement beside his head. Cloud was certain that if he ignored his rival that he would get bored and leave. What fun was toying with someone if they dismissed your presence?

"Hn. Pathetic."

 _'Just ignore him. He just wants to rile you.'_

Heavy footsteps closed the distance between them. Black boots entered his peripheral vision. Cloud frowned and tried to focus on the bike. He was almost done...

WHAM!

Cloud let out a yelp and jolted onto his feet, gaping at Sephiroth with disbelief. The older man had just kicked his tool box. Kicked it. Right across the garage into the far wall. Now the red container was a distorted mess of dented metal and it contents were scattered all over the floor. And his rival had the gall to have that impassive look on his face like nothing just happened.

"Fucking psychotic asshole!" The blond bit his lip, not intending to actually say that aloud. As much as they bickered, Cloud tried to keep his temper in check and not scream profanities like Barret and Cid. His mama raised him better than that. But the shock of what Sephiroth just did stripped him of his filter and left him floundering to find reasoning. He grit his teeth. "How dare you..."

Sephiroth smirked.

Lord asshat just wanted his attention.

"Just get out. If you're only purpose in coming here was to insult me and break my stuff all because I haven't raced in a little while..."

"Fenris."

Cloud shut his mouth.

The older jockey tucked back a long strand of silver hair and turned around, putting his back to the blond. Cloud followed. Since arriving home, he tried to push thoughts of Fenris from his mind. He knew that the chocobo was in ShinRa's care—he highly suspected this was Sephiroth's way of honoring his debts since Cloud didn't accept the offer he tried to force on him. But he never heard any reports on his condition. No one would talk to him. And after a while, he just stopped calling.

It did not take long to round the house and arrive at the stables.

 _"_ _Hey! Spiky, long time no see."_

Leaning against the fence of the training area was none other than Zack Fair, Sephiroth's fellow ShinRa sponsored jockey. He was a little over two years Cloud's senior and they had a friendly rapport ever since the blond won against Sephiroth the first time. At least once or twice a year he would drop by and they'd have lunch; Zack would take that time to yammer on about how small town guys needed to stick together. Cloud let it slip when they first met that he was from Nibelheim, and after teasing him for how backwater that sounded, Zack declared he was from Gongaga. A tiny reactor town in the middle of a _jungle._

He would not call them friends, exactly, but the dark-haired man's visits were a welcome occurrence. Cid liked to tease him whenever he came back from their lunches, saying that he looked like he just had a date with a pretty girl. Cloud would raise a fuss, but there was no point in fighting. Cid meant no harm, and Zack had a girl back in Midgar he wouldn't shut up about. They were just...Zack and Cloud.

"Who are you calling Spiky?" Cloud teased in return. "You look like you stuck a fork in a light socket!"

Zack clutched his chest and sagged against the fence, "My heart, you wound me! Seph, did you hear what he just said?"

Sephiroth crossed his arms, "I disagree Strife. I believe that style is achieved through poking a fork into a toaster rather than a light socket."

Both wild-haired men stared at the senior jockey. Zack recovered first and laughed.

"Alright, alright, I see now that I can't win with the two of you teamed up like that," he said through a grin. "Been a while since I had a laugh like that. Gotta get you and Seph together more."

"Eh?"

"I fail to see the humor. I was not joking."

Zack waved Sephiroth off nonchalantly and strolled up to Cloud, looping an arm around his neck, "I admit, I was confused when you didn't get back to racing a couple months ago, but then it hit me. Fenris! I bet you were all worried about him and didn't want to race until you knew how he was doing. And ShinRa is just soooo stuffy and secretive and blah, blah, blah. So! I decided to come here with the news. Sephy here tagged along to verbally abuse me..."

He cast a painfully overacted look of hurt at his senior before turning both he and Cloud toward the stables.

"Hey Captain! You can come out now."

From the stable, a broadly smiling Cid emerged, Fenris trailing behind him, free of injury, his stride strong. When he spotted Cloud, the chocobo let out a trill and flapped his useless wings.

"Look who's here and happy to see you, Spike."

Cloud blinked and slipped free from Zack, stumbling over the fence and to Fenris with a pounding heart. He had not ridden a chocobo since the accident. The excuses eventually ran dry and he simply avoided the stables, telling Barret he wasn't ready to get back to riding yet. He never told anyone about the nightmares that left him gasping, or the unsettling panic that gripped him at unexpected moments. He couldn't voice to anyone the crushing paranoia and guilt that consumed him in his weaker moments, when the moon was high and there was nothing to busy his thoughts. Only Marlene noticed the footprints in her flowerbeds from Cloud slipping out of his bedroom window at night, to sit on the hill and stare at the stars until the dawn bled over the horizon.

Now, the chocobo he almost crippled in his folly, was healthy and excitedly nibbling at his hair and clothes. There was no ounce of distrust in those big eyes. He bet he could climb on his back right now and Fenris would fearlessly heed his orders.

Yet that very thought snapped something delicate within him.

Everyone here was watching him with expectation. This was his career. He rode chocobo's for a living. It was expected that he get back up after every fall and try again. They watched him grow from shaky, reckless rookie to a championship winner. Even Fenris looked at him with interest, brimming with energy Cloud recognized as a want to run.

Zack clapped a hand on his shoulder, having hopped the fence himself, "See, all patched up! It was all real sudden and hush-hush, but Seph wanted to make sure Fenris here received the best care possible. Said that he deserved it after winning that race. Go on. Give a proper hello. Doc says he's all ready to race."

Cloud dropped his chin to his chest.

"...Spike?"

How could Fenris look at him like that? With such trust? He did not deserve it.

"I can't."

"Huh?" Zack blinked. Cid's cigarette fell from the corner of his mouth.

Cloud pulled Zack's hand from his shoulder, "I can't."

"I don't understand."

"I...I don't think I will ever race again."

 _"_ _Preposterous!"_

Everyone looked toward Sephiroth, who was marching toward them with a dark fury radiating around him. He shoved Zack aside when he tried to step between him and his target, and then backed Cloud against Fenris. The chocobo made a noise of protest at its favorite person was spooked by the much taller man. Cloud opened his mouth to tell him to back off, but Sephiroth grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him onto his toes.

"You are going to race again."

Cloud grit his teeth and wrenched free, "What makes you think you have a say? It was your stupid wager that caused all of this!"

He had the grace to actually flinch at the blond's accusation.

"What does he mean by that?" Cid piped in.

Zack shook his head, "I don't know..."

Sephiroth returned to his usual mask of disinterest, "The blame doesn't rest on me. You had a choice."

"Speaking of choices, I'm making another one. Right here and now. I'm giving up racing. I'm never going to ride a chocobo again."

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Part two of four posted~ Thank you for reading! Please review, even little things such as 'I like' or 'I dislike' are important to me. Update will come next week. Until then!)**


	3. The Change

**A/N:** -sneaks in a drops update-

I'll confess, I utterly forgot that I didn't post an update. Why? Well, I got a job! Aaaaand, it sucked. Spent 14 hours of my day either at work or driving to/from work, 6 days a week. It made me miserable, I wasn't getting anything out of it and I barely did anything but work and sleep and eat when I managed to get home. But as the saying goes, when a door closes, a window opens. I broke down, quit this morning, and a couple hours later, I started getting all sorts of leads for job opportunities. Funny how the world works.

Anyway~ One more chapter after this one.

 **Shatterglass**

 **By Catsitta**

 **3\. THE CHANGE**

 _"_ _Never going to ride a chocobo again?"_

Zack and Cid both stared at Cloud, mouths slightly agape. The blond jockey felt the stinging prick of tears itching at the corner of his eyes. He needed out of here. With a silent plea for forgiveness in his gaze, Cloud ran. His mako tainted blood heated as adrenaline seized shaky limbs. It wasn't long before he hopped the fence and fled past the stables. There were wide open stretches of flatland all around, only sparse trees in sight, so hiding wasn't much of an option. But he could run. And run, and run and run. He could run until his legs gave out and he was sprawled on the grass, numb and exhausted.

But when had anything gone as planned lately?

Cloud slowed just slightly to maneuver around an uneven patch of ground, and right before he sped up, something hit him. Or more accurately, someone. They both crashed down in a tangle of limbs and dirt, the blond's breath knocked right out of his lungs. Momentum made them roll; Cloud helplessly flopped around until landed on his back, a heavy weight around his waist.

He groaned.

The weight became a vice, curling and gripping around Cloud's middle.

"Let me go!" Cloud barely registered what just occurred, but he did know that the pressure pinning him was someone's arm. He struggled, light headed from the impact, fingers plucking at the limb around him.

"No."

The young jockey stilled for a second, "Sephiroth!"

Then he began to thrash anew.

"Hold still!"

"What do you want?" Cloud twisted like a wet feline until he wriggled free. Sephiroth was quick to regain a hold, jumping on him again before he could regain his footing. A short struggle later found the blond sitting on the older jockey's lap, arms pinned to his sides, back against Sephiroth's chest. He kicked futilely, face heated, eyes clenched shut. But his captor was stronger and unwilling to release his grip.

Both of them were breathing heavier and Cloud felt the other's breath against his hair. This was weird. Unbearably weird. Sephiroth did not touch people, much less pounce on them—he was infamous for his aloof persona, a heartbreaker that none could lay a hand upon. As for Cloud, he did not sit in people's laps. Girls sat on boys laps; guys didn't do the same. What made this worse was the fact that he was sitting on mister untouchable's lap specifically. It was wrong.

Yet he did shout for him to let go, or to let him up.

He just sat there, red faced and fuming, caught between fury and humiliation at his predicament.

"Feeling more rational, Strife?"

Cloud snorted, "Says the man who kicked a toolbox and tackled me for no apparent reason. How much mako did they pump you with anyway? I couldn't have done that."

"You are avoiding the issue. I did not do either of those things without rationality."

"Nope. Still don't see why you would, er, do this. I just made your life easier, Crescent." Cloud dropped his chin to his chest and released a sigh, all fight abandoned. "By quitting, you have one less contender for those title races. You can go back to being unrivaled for Jockey of the Year."

Sephiroth stood, dragging Cloud up with him. The blond squawked in protest, struggles renewed, but his rival held tight. Next thing he knew, he was slung over a shoulder like a sack of dried greens.

"You are my only opponent of worth," Sephiroth said.

Cloud's face heated another degree, "Idiot. You have plenty of rivals. Even Kisaragi almost kicked your ass a couple times this year. Bet she'd take up your stupid wagers if you challenged her."

She was competitive enough. Zack complained plenty about Yuffie's one-sided rivalry with him, in which she verbally berated him whenever she lost a race to Zack and in turn, lost the Gil she wagered on her chocobo winning.

Silence met his argument.

If he knew nothing else about his rival, it was how he was a man of action as opposed to words. When he spoke, it was generally to provoke, but when he wanted to make a point, he took action. Probably because deep down he was an antisocial asshat with an ego the size of Mt. Nibel. Being nice was beneath him...usually. That visit in the hospital was surreal, with him quietly checking in on Cloud, curt but almost restrained with concern. And the only one with the moxie to tell the blond what happened.

Cloud's thrashing stilled as the gears in his head turned.

He released a low sigh, "Why? Why are you doing any of this?"

"You ran off like a child, I am merely returning you," Sephiroth said.

Cloud kneed his rival in the chest, earning a satisfactory grunt, "That's not what I meant, you dense oaf. Why are you here with Zack? Why did you have ShinRa care for Fenris? Why did you visit me in the hospital? Last I checked, we aren't friends. We only talk when you're harassing me or issuing your stupid challenges. So what gives?"

They stopped moving. A light breeze plucked at long silver hair, twisting it like it would a web of spider's silk.

"...honor."

"Excuse me?"

"Honor. You won the race, suffering injury doing so, knowing that I would reap the reward should you fail. Then you do not take from me as I would have you. I dislike my honor placed in such a predicament."

"Uh huh. If I remember correctly, your little wager had me quitting racing forever. What changed between then and now?"

"Nothing."

Cloud was tempted to yank those long locks in frustration, "What?!"

Sephiroth made an indignant sound.

"Is this your ass backwards way of saying you were expecting me to win from the beginning? Wait. That meant you were making that idiotic wager believing you would lose your sponsorship. Crescent, that's...that's utterly insane."

"As is your ridiculous insistence of quitting."

His rival adjusted Cloud on his shoulder and strode right up the hill, returning them to the stables, where a baffled Zack Fair and Cid Highwind stood with a wide-eyed Fenris in tow. The rough trainer was trying to light a smoke, but the cigarette fell from fumbling fingers as he watched the pair approach. As for Zack, the dark-haired jockey recovered quicker and replaced his shock with a lopsided grin.

Sephiroth dumped Cloud nonchalantly onto the ground at Fenris' clawed feet.

"Fair, we cannot dither here all day," he said, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. "The purpose of this visit has been met. It is time to leave."

"We can't leave, Seph, Spiky-boy here just said he was quitting racing!"

"I am well aware."

"Seph..."

"Desist your whining. As your senior, you follow my command. Now come along, Fair."

Zack cast a worried glance at Cloud, who was rising to his feet and brushing dirt off his clothes. He was still processing these past couple minutes. As Sephiroth led Zack away, the blond offered a shaky smile.

.x.

A fortnight later found Cloud sitting on the hill, watching the dawn rise over the horizon. Like most nights since the accident, he struggled to sleep. When he did slip into slumber, he did not dream. Yet he woke with a pounding heart and a audible gasp, every nerve alive and ready to act, eyes darting around the shadowed corners of his bedroom. It was hard to compare the sensation to anything else other than paranoid fear, the kind that left him restless and anxious, any sudden movement or loud sound making him flinch.

It was hard on his body.

The lack of sleep and constant roil of stress in his belly was like an inescapable bout of mako sickness. It was hard to find the urge to eat and more than once, he spent an hour in the bathroom at some odd hour of the morning, curled around the toilet, willing the bile in his belly to settle.

But the night air helped.

Sitting out beneath the stars, the chill of early winter seeping into tight lungs, soothing overheated skin—it was calming. He almost wished the morning would never rise again, so that he could remain on the dewy grass, counting stars and tracing constellations.

Cloud drew in a ragged breath and stood.

With dawn came duties.

After declaring he would no longer race, Cloud tried to leave Costa del Sol. Barret and Cid stopped him, for some baffling reason, and insisted that he remain at the stables until he found new work and accommodations. Only there was a problem. Barret's motorcycle was broken and needed a new part that would not arrive until the end of the month, at best; which meant if Cloud was to go to town to find work, he would either need to walk or ride a chocobo.

Given how dangerous the wilds were between the stables and the city, walking alone and unarmed was a stupid idea. His mako enhancements made him very tolerant of injury, but getting chased around by aggressive razor weeds or by some species of predatory carnivore, was not exactly the best way to commute to work. After the last attempt ended with Cloud's clothes getting ruined and him breaking the baseball bat he borrowed, the blond realized that transportation was needed if he was to actually find work.

Which meant riding a chocobo.

He struggled to go into the stables and care for Fenris—the very idea of hopping onto his back made him recoil. Even if it was just to make a slow walk around the fields...he couldn't muster the mindset to do it. Raking a hand through messy locks, Cloud turned his back to the rising sun and returned to the house.

Another night passed.

.x.

Later that day, Barret cornered him.

Apparently some people were coming to the stables. Important people. The gruff man did not go into detail, but ushered the blond to go help Cid clean up. Cloud rolled his eyes as he sought out the trainer. Why hadn't Barret mentioned those big wigs visiting earlier than the day they were to arrive? Not wanting to disappoint his employer any further than he already had, he threw himself into the chores he was given.

Alongside Cid, he tided up the stalls and groomed the chocobos.

The fresh coat of paint and the scent of new wood reminded him of the improvements made lately. With Cloud's earnings from the championship race, the stables were soon to be expanded, the current building brought to a glowing liveliness with repairs. He heard talk of the fence getting replaced. That would be good, some of the posts were starting to rot.

"Spike, I think they're here," Cid said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. They had been working for nearly four hours on making everything look perfect.

Cloud turned to face where the trainer looked, and saw a pair of silhouettes meandering down the side of the hill. One of them appeared to be the bulky stable owner, but the other was whip thin. A stranger. He grimaced. All that work left him grimy and sweaty. Hopefully Barret didn't expect them to make stellar first impressions with their appearances. Tidying his unruly hair as best as he could with his hands, Cloud approached the newcomer, Cid strolling behind him.

When he could see them clearly, Cloud nearly choked.

"Somethin' the matter?" Cid asked.

"Do you know who that is?" The blond's eyes were as big as the Gold Saucer.

Walking down that hill, with Barret at his side, was the one person in their industry more famous than Sephiroth himself. Former champion jockey, Vincent Valentine. Known as a prodigy from the previous generation, he held an unprecedented and unbroken record winning streak of 10 years. By the time he was Cloud's age, Valentine was said to only ride in championship circuits. And the last five years of his career, he rode chocobos he bred himself and raised a line of champions, starting with his first record making bird, a black stud named Death Penalty.

After he retired from the industry, Valentine became reclusive.

A hidden legend.

Feet rooted to the ground, Cloud stared as Valentine moved gracefully towards them. Black hair kept short during his racing years, hung low between his shoulders, ebon strands plucked up by errant breezes. Ruby eyes glittered like drops of blood on a pale, aristocratic face. His features were faintly Wutainese, with a soft, rounded jaw and thin brows. He wore a crisp black suit with shiny shoes and a crimson tie. Yet despite all of the polish, he still had a vibrant wildness in his gaze and stride that bespoke of those youthful years.

The blond held his breath.

"Well lookie here! Good to see yah, Vinnie." Cid's voice made him wince. Why was he grinning and acting like this man was his best friend? Vinnie. Did they know each other? "I didn't expect you to be the hotshot we were cleaning up for."

Valentine stood before them at a polite distance, hands behind his back. He graced the trainer with a faint smile, but said nothing in return. Cid did not appear to mind. He walked right up and looped an around around his shoulders. Valentine didn't shake him off.

Barret grunt and smacked Cid on the back of the head, "Oi, he's here on business. Be polite, you idiot."

"I am being polite!"

 _"_ _It is quite alright, Mr. Wallace. The Captain and I have known each other a long time."_

Cid grinned, "That's right. Hey, as much as it's grand to see you again, what the hell are you doing here? Last I heard from you, you were frettin' over that lady of yours. How is Lucy?"

Valentine shifted at the mention of 'Lucy', "Lucrecia is well..."

At the silence that followed, Cloud found himself distinctly uncomfortable. He was witnessing what should be a private conversation. Clearing his throat, the blond gave a small smile and held out a hand toward the older man, "Hello sir, it's an honor to meet you. I'm-"

"-Cloud Strife. The young jockey rumors say may surpass Sephiroth as most talented of his generation. Given how young he began, and how short you've raced, it's rather impressive."

Cloud swallowed.

This legend of a man knew his name.

At least he was keeping his cool far better than when he first met Sephiroth. That was embarrassing to look back on. It was his rookie year, the season drawing to an end. He'd made such an impression on Barret that he decided that Cloud would ride their best chocobo at the Midgar Trophy Stakes. There, he saw him. Long silver hair and mako eyes gleaming in the greenish glow of the upper Plate. He had the reigns of his most recent champion mount, Masamune, in hand. Cloud wandered close to him, almost afraid to breathe the air around the man. He led Barret's chocobo towards him, wanting to confess how he inspired him to race and how he watched him on television for years. He wanted to shake his hand...

Then, less than five feet from him, Cloud tripped.

One foot hooked around the heel of the other and he face-planted like a clumsy idiot.

Sephiroth's shadow fell over him.

He smirked.

"How pathetic. Groveling at the feet of your betters before you even lose?"

Those words brought tears to his eyes. The perfect illusion, that impassive star, he looked down upon Cloud as if he were dirt. He turned into a stuttering, humiliated wreck. And he might have quit racing after that race too...but by some miracle, he won.

As he pulled across the finish line, his gaze tore to the side, a flabbergasted Sephiroth staring at him as he desperately tried to comprehend the scant inches between him and victory. After that came no apology, just challenges. Many vicious. Thus why it came as such of a surprise for him to show up at the hospital or bring Fenris to Midgar to heal. Or why he protested Cloud's desire to quit when it was the purpose of his idiotic challenge to make him stop racing!

Cloud blinked back into the moment, reality returning a haze.

Valentine gripped his proffered hand and a shot of cold surged up Cloud's arm. He glanced down, a creeping self-consciousness chilling him. Gleaming in the light was the golden shell of his prosthetic arm. Unlike Barret's, this one did not stop at the elbow, but continued all the way to the shoulder. He could not see it through the suit, but Cloud knew it like any fan of the sport did. The reason why Valentine's winning streak ended, and why the Continental league now required all resident racers to have mako enhancements.

"Is something amiss?" Valentine asked as he drew away. There was knowing in his eyes.

Cloud flexed his palms as he allowed his arms to fall to his side, "N-no."

His breaths shortened as he recalled reading those news articles; watching recordings of the event. It was plastered all over the day it happened. A headline story. Cloud was only ten when he came across the details behind Valentine's accident that ended his career.

It was on the infamous Space Bridge at the recently built Golden Saucer.

His mount at the time, Chaos, held an impressive lead. It was the chocobo's last race before being put to pasture as a full-time stud, his days spent lazing away in fields and siring offspring. They were on route to make this last race a spectacular one.

Then it happened.

Chaos suddenly lost traction, a non-enhanced Valentine was unable to correct their fall. He tried to lessen the impact but found his left leg tangled in the stirrups, caught by the unexpected shift in balance. Unable to free himself, Valentine fell to the ground with Chaos on top of him. No one is quite sure how, but he ended up landing on his arm in such a way that all the bones shattered. His shoulder broke through the glass of the bridge and the chocobo's weight cracked it even further. The momentum of the fall also caused them to slide.

It was a gory sight.

The jagged glass tore open Valentine's thin clothes and Chaos' feathered side. Blood coated the bridge. It wasn't the first incident to occur at the Golden Saucer, but it was the worst yet.

It was said the sound of the pair hitting the bridge sounded like a whip-crack snapping through brittle silence.

Valentine was rushed to the hospital where he was comatose for three days. The next few months were kept very hush-hush, but when he was next spotted in the public light, he was missing his arm and confined to a wheelchair. It was almost a year after that before he was seen at a race again, sporting a golden arm and the announcement that it would be his final time. A goodbye to his trade.

Everyone expected him to leave in a bang and take first place with him.

But to their shock and dismay, the wounded champion came in at a middling fourth.

Cloud looked down at the ground.

A man who was mutilated by an accident still got up and rode again. Yet here he was too terrified to sit on Fenris' back. Sephiroth was right. He was pathetic.

 _"_ _Care to share your thoughts?"_

Valentine's calm voice brought him out of his malaise.

"Er, n-no. I'm fine. Welcome. And I hope you enjoy your time here," Cloud turned. "Excuse me."

"Curious. I can see why Sephiroth is so worried about you."

Cloud's retreat stilled and he glanced over his shoulder, "What?"

The retired jockey tucked a long lock behind his ear, "Sephiroth. He is worried. Understandably."

"How do you know Crescent?"

Valentine blinked, "I am surprised he never told you. I was under the impression the pair of you were rather close." Close? Him and Sephiroth? The guy was a jerk with the social skills of a rotten tree stump. Valentine hummed an interested note. "He is my son."

Son. Sephiroth was Vincent Valentine's son. A jumble of numbers and dates clicked into place. That would mean that his rival was born shortly after Valentine's retirement race. Always the private man even during his prime, nothing was said about him being married or having a family. But wait...Sephiroth's last name was Crescent. Did that mean...?

Cloud blinked owlishly.

He knew very well people did not have to be married to have kids. He was born to a single mother. But by the sound of it Valentine was involved in Sephiroth's life.

"Speaking of my son, he is waiting for us in the house. Along with a few other individuals."

"He's here?" Cloud tore his gaze away, heart skipping. Last time lord asshat was here, he kicked his toolbox and tackled him. He did his best to ignore the way his face heated, blaming it on Valentine's expectant stare. "I...I should go finish some chores."

A giant weight landed on the blond's shoulder, "Valentine came all of the way out here for _you_ , kid. So shape up." Paralyzed by the announcement, he didn't fight it when Barret shoved him up the hill. Cid chuckled but did not follow.

"Catch up with you later, Vinnie!" he said before meandering into the stables.

Valentine gave a small nod before turning to follow Cloud and Barret to the house.

.x.

Cloud was uncertain who all would be at the house.

Valentine and Sephiroth were both sponsored by ShinRa for their races. Did that mean on of the ShinRa men were here? That would be miserable. Wanting to drag his feet and delay a disaster, Cloud sluggishly walked up the front porch steps and opened the door. He heard voices as he stepped inside. Familiar ones. Frowning, he wandered toward the voices, ending up in the entryway to the kitchen.

He wasn't sure whether to cringe or smile.

At the table, chattering together, were four familiar faces. Tifa sat with her back to him, long black hair loose, a cup of coffee held loosely in her hand. Opposite of her sat Zack, energetically gesticulating as he told some wild story. Standing to Zack's left, back against the counter, eyes closed, arms crossed, was Sephiroth, looking none too impressed. And at Zack's right was...Dr. Gainsborough? Free of her scrubs and white coat, the young doctor looked even younger than before, her hair braided, a bright pink bow knotted at the base. She was smiling dreamily at Zack, a glittering band on her left finger.

Cloud blinked. A while ago Zack mentioned that he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend. Was that girl her? Vague memories of the older jockey gushing about how he met the prettiest girl when he was sixteen—how she was the daughter of a prominent ShinRa scientist who loved gardening. He did say something about her being away a lot of the time...Medical school and work?

Small world.

But despite that small world, he could not understand why they were all in Barret's kitchen.

 _"_ _Look who showed up at last."_

Everyone went silent when Sephiroth spoke, all eyes snapping to Cloud. That disdainful mako gaze fixed itself on his face before shifting to above his shoulder.

It was Tifa who broke the lull.

"Cloud! It's good to see you again," she said, rising from her chair and throwing her arms around his neck. He blinked and patted her back. Zack grinned and stood as well, Aerith quick to join him. The arm he threw casually around her shoulders confirmed his suspicions. She was that girl he gushed about during his visits.

"Um, as much as its nice to see all of you, er, why are you guys here?"

Tifa pulled away and grabbed his hands, "To help."

"What?"

Cloud looked around. He could understand Tifa and even Zack, but why were the others here to help him? Aerith barely knew him, Valentine was a stranger and Sephiroth was his rival. The brunette stepped back, guiding Cloud to the others. She glanced at the people surrounding them. Even at Barret who loomed in the doorway, Valentine lurking nearby, his posture similar to his son's.

"Racing is your life. Your dream." Her eyes and voice were soft. "I remember the little neighbor boy who talked endlessly about going to Midgar someday and racing for ShinRa, because that meant he would be one of the best. He loved chocobos. He feared nothing. He inspired me." Tifa ducked her head, trying to hide the pink on her cheeks. "He grew up into my dearest friend. A good, brave man. And I don't... _we_ don't...want that man to give up on his dream."

Zack nodded, looking more serious than normal. Dr. Gainsborough smiled reassuringly. And Sephiroth...he did not wear a smug expression. In its place was a determined one. As if Cloud were a puzzle he was going to solve, no questions asked.

"You...you're all here to help me?" Cloud was surprised by the way his voice cracked. A leap of panic swelled in his belly. "I don't need help. I'm fine. I don't want to race anymore! So I'm sorry, but you're wasting your time."

Tifa's face fell. Zack and Aerith both seemed to wilt slightly at his declaration.

Sephiroth, however, sneered.

"You never struck me as a coward, Strife."

Cloud turned on him, the fluttering fear making him twitchy. He wanted out. He wanted to run. But he was cornered. Trapped. His only other option was to stand his ground and fight.

"It's not like you know me, Crescent. All you've done is toy with me since we met." Cloud's lip curled as he spat his frustration, "Does it give your oversized ego a boost to help poor pathetic little me?"

His rival pushed from the counter and loomed over Cloud, thunderous and dark, like a violent storm on the brink of unleashing a blinding torrent upon the victims below. His presence swallowed up all in proximity, rendering the air thick with suffocating static.

"Watch where you tread."

"Why should I? Last I checked I can say whatever I damn well please. Just because you're a big shot, doesn't mean you can boss me around. I don't work for you or for ShinRa!"

 _"_ _This explains quite a bit."_

Both Sephiroth and Cloud looked over upon hearing Valentine's amused drawl. The smirk he wore was one hundred percent the one his son lorded with whenever he had some twisted scheme brewing to make the blond miserable. The bickering pair silenced and drew back, retreating subconsciously from the older man. Despite being twice their age and slimmer than Sephiroth, he commanded a room with ease, his voice cutting while being little more than a polite hush.

Crimson scanned the brief distance between the rivals before settling on Cloud for a dreadfully extended second. Then he quirked his head in a disarming manner as he looked at Sephiroth.

"You are your mother's son," Valentine said, strolling to stand by the table. Everyone watched him. The silver-haired jockey crossed his arms, averting his gaze, earning further amusement from his father. "All of this trouble and you never said a word to him."

Upon receiving a lethal glare from his son, Valentine swept a hand toward Aerith, Zack and Tifa, "Take a moment, Strife, and tell me what you see."

Cloud frowned, a little off-kilter from his spat with Sephiroth, "I see my childhood friend, and a senior jockey with his doctor girlfriend."

"Is that all?"  
"Yeah..."

The creak of metallic joints flexing and realigning rippled through still air. Valentine's prosthetic hand settled on his shoulder, "Try considering the fact that everyone in this room is here at the behest of one person."

A name escaped before Cloud could stifle it, "Sephiroth."

Valentine dropped his hand.

Blue eyes took in the earnest smiles cast at him. They were all here because Sephiroth requested them. But why? Why would he do such a thing? Because he wanted his rival back? He was a conflicting, confusing man whose motivation was as clear as the polluted waters of Junon Harbor.

But as he met those steady gazes, something twisted. Shifted. An aching yearning for something familiar. Something that bickered with the fear that boiled in his belly and offered a shimmering candle flame worth of hope.

Zack was the first to break the stifling tension, kicking back his chair and slamming both hands on the table, "We're gonna help you prep for the Midgar Gold Trophy Cup!"

"WHAT!" Cloud jumped back, nearly knocking Valentine over in his retreat.

Tifa stood next, fists up in determination, "Yeah!"

Aerith rose gracefully and laid a hand on Zack's arm, "After all that work patching you up, I'd like to see you back on a chocobo." She giggled.

"You guys..."

"If you are to ever win ShinRa's favor, then you will need to shape up, Strife." The blond bit his lip. Sephiroth stared at him with surprising determination. The older jockey huffed and inclined his chin with aloof arrogance. "Your presence at the races is...refreshing."

Valentine snorted, "Is that what you're calling it? Refreshing?"

Sephiroth's cheeks pinked.

Apparently even he wasn't immune to familial teasing,

However, that begged the question. Why did Sephiroth invite his father to speak with Cloud? He was even more out of place here than Aerith.

 _"_ _So, what's it gonna be, Spike?"_

Barret's deep baritone boomed through the cramped kitchen.

For the first time in months, Cloud felt light. As if he were seeing the world in perfect clarity after a lifetime of fog and rain.

"I...I'll race at Midgar Gold Troth Cup."

As he said those words, he watched his rival. He watched as that angelic facade cracked, offering a raw glimpse of humanity. Green eyes were wide and full of life. Soft lips parted slightly. He looked more radiant in that instant than ever before.

He looked beautiful.

As the moment passed, Cloud realized two things.

That he just agreed to participate in a prestigious race in less than a month.

And he found his egomaniac of a rival...beautiful.

 **-tbc-**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading! Comments and reviews are love~)**


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